Beyond the Map
by IDreamOfFantasy
Summary: Set after book four. Will is taken away by outsiders and everyone believes him to be lost, until they hear stories of a young boy leading an army to war. Now Will is stuck with the choice of going home, or helping the people save their country.
1. One Move, and He Dies

**hey people it's me Kitty! i'm so sad theres no section for rangers apprentice! anyway i thought this story up and my friends liked it (thanks ndoki) and so i'm putting it on here! yey! and of cause i have to say what everyone says!**

**"review people!" heh heh it does make me feel good inside and i do try and type faster so please do! a special thank you to any one who does!**

It was a few hours after they had left from castle Araluen, and Will seemed to quiet

It was a few hours after they had left from castle Araluen, and Will seemed too quiet. He was not continually asking questions and the way he stared down at his hands, Halt knew there was something on the boys mind. He had a pretty fair idea about what it might be about. A few days ago the boy had been given the choice to become a lieutenant in the Kings Royal scouts, but Will had made the decision of staying as a Ranger's apprentice. Halt was proud that he had chosen to stay with him but it seemed the choice had laid heavily on his shoulders.

"You can always go back you know." Will looked up in surprise; Halt continued to study the road before them.

"Go back?" one quick glance saw that he was generally confused and Halt explained.

"I'm sure King Duncan would still like you as one of his Royal scouts."

"Oh…" it was all Will could say. He wasn't really thinking about that. In fact he was content on the chose he had made. Spending time with Halt was his day to day life now and he couldn't think of it being any other way. What he was really thinking about was Evanlyn. Would there friendship die over the time that they won't see each other? He already knew it wasn't as strong as it was when in Skandia, and part of that was his fault. He didn't seem to be able to talk to her when she was Princess Cassandra, he felt below her when he was in her presence. A thought would always pop into his head; why would she want to talk to an orphaned Apprentice Ranger like him? He always had the notion that she only spoke to him in Skandia because he was the only person she could talk to other than the big giants. But he always dismissed the idea; he knew it wasn't true although that little voice inside his head fought with what was.

Realising that he still hadn't answered Halt and turned to face his mentor; "I don't want to go back Halt, I know I made the right choice, it was…another matter I was thinking of." Halt looked at his apprentice, and then nodded once; it was noticeable that Will didn't feel like talking about that matter.

"Don't let it worry you, most things seem to sort things out by themselves, thinking about it won't fix the problem." Will nodded then went back to staring at his hands. He felt something warm touch his shoulder.

"You'll be right boy." Halt said gently. He removed his hand from the young mans shoulder and continued studying the road and the woods around him.

Will realised Halt was right. It was no use thinking about it now, it wouldn't help, and he was supposed to be helping Halt keep a look out in case some bandits or thieves decided that they would try to catch these to Rangers of there guard for a little fun.

It was quiet; no birds were singing, or rabbits running in the undergrowth. It was strange to Will, normally the woods were full of life. Something didn't seem right here. And just as he was about to mention it to Halt, a soft _twang_ stopped him and as his head turned toward the sound he felt a searing pain in his right side. Crying out he lost his hold on Tugs reins and fell with a thump to the ground.

"Will!" Halt shouted reining in Abelard and turning him around, but almost thirty fully armed men were streaming out from the right side of the woods. Halt was distracted as they ran screaming toward him, Abelard reared in surprise and trotted away from the oncoming men, the horse had never been charged at before and he didn't like it one bit. They were coming between the space between him and Will now, trying to push him away. He couldn't let that happen…

In pain, Will looked down at his wound; he could see an arrow with a white shaft sticking out of his side. An arrow? Was this what it was like for every person he had shot down with his own? It was an agonising feeling, he wanted it to stop. He covered the wound with his hands, the arrow between the spaces of his fingers. He gasped as he felt his own blood seep through his hold on the wound. It was hurting like hell.

Halt was quick to react. He pulled his longbow down from his shoulder and nocked in an arrow, shotting down three men in quick succession. He looked back behind him. Will was still on the ground and Halt saw, by the look of him that he wasn't doing alright. He turned back to the advancing men, they weren't doing anything, just staying far enough away so that Abelard wouldn't kick them but swinging there swords so that the horse will be forced to move away from them, and away from Will. Halt realised this, but to late. He started to shot down more, he had to get back, Will was probably dying. Just as he was about to release another arrow a deep voice boomed across the space between them.

"Make one more move, Ranger and he dies." Halt paused and slowly turned to face the direction of the sound. A man dressed in black was standing in the middle of the road, a knife in his hand, which was positioned at Wills throat. The boy was having trouble standing and the captor had to hold most of his weight up.

"Let the boy go!" Halt shouted. He didn't want Will hurt any more than he already was. It was clear to everyone that the arrow wound was causing him pain.

"I think not Ranger!" the man shouted back, "I would leave without what I had come for if I did."

Halt frowned. They wanted Will? No one knew much about the boy, and by the sound of the mans accent he wasn't Araluen. He thought his predicament through. He didn't have very many options, and all of them involved leaving Will to these men and then finding and killing them to get him back. He didn't like any of them.

"So why don't you put your bow down and the boy won't get any more hurt then he already is." Halt couldn't see his opponents face, it was nearly dark; the sun already half way down the horizon. He did as the man complied, Laying the bow across his knees. He saw the man shake his head.

"No, no you give it to one of my men, and the arrows." Halt didn't like passing over his long bow to the wimpy man now standing next to him. But the other man didn't seem to notice that Halt had a throwing and saxe knife on his belt. He passed the weapon down to the man. He gave Halt a sneer that said, _I got your bow and you can't do anything about it._

Halt had to stop himself punching him in the face. The man holding Will nodded, "good, good," he said, manly to himself, but Halt could still hear him twenty meters away. It was almost fully dark now, the moon hiding behind think clouds. The men around Halt were only dark shadows and the trees seemed to be whispering as the wind blew through the branches. It would be the best time to attack right now Halt knew, but he needed to make sure that Will was out of the mans grasp before he could do anything.

Will couldn't so anything, the pain in his side made it hard to stand and he was sure from the loss of blood his vision was failing. He couldn't even see the features of the man holding him. Either it was that or it was getting to dark. He hoped it was the latter. The Man pushed the knife a little more against his neck. He couldn't stand straight and so didn't have enough energy to pull on the mans wrist to loosen the hold on his neck.

Then he heard it, the unmistaken sound of hoof beats. Instantly his heart rate picked up, maybe it was some of the guards from Castle Araluen. But then his stomach knotted and his heart almost leaped into his throat. The sound of horses was coming from behind him, meaning that they couldn't be from the Castle. He looked toward Halt and saw the faint outline of Castle Araluen behind him. He felt his eyes water, from the growing pressure on his throat and the loss of hope he felt inside. No one was coming to rescue them. He felt a soft laugh in his ear, and the man whispered to him.

"You might want to say goodbye to your mentor over there boy, 'cause you ain't never going to see him again." The man chuckled. Will hated him; never had he hated someone with so much passion. He had only known him for less then half an hour and already Will knew they were never going to be on the same side on an argument. He didn't even know his name! and here he was pressing a knife against his throat and saying he'll never see Halt again.

The sounds of horses were right behind him now. He was lead, being dragged and carried more then walking back away from his mentor, and thrown into the back of an old wooden carriage. He groaned and carefully rolled over on his back. The last he saw was the dark figure of Halt Struggling against the wave of men pushing him back. Without his bow he was only slashing any person who got close enough with his saxe knife.

"Will!" he shouted, "Will."

A small sound escaped from the lips of his apprentice, and if he was standing close enough he might have heard the boy whisper his name, until he fell into unconsciousness.

Halt rode as fast as Abelard could go back to Castle Araluen. His breathing was irregular as he tried to calm himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks of their own accord and all he could think of was that he had lost him again. The Castle rose fin front of him, the city stretched out around it. The gates opened immediately as they recognised the rider as one of the Kings Rangers.

Halt galloped straight through, people quickly moving out of his way as he barged through the crowd. They all looked confused at his sudden arrival and watched closely as he rode away from them. Abelard's hooves echoed on the cobble stones as they got closer and closer to the Castle. His tears dried on his cheeks as there was no more to fall and wet them again.

As soon as he reached the gates they opened for him and a stable hand came running out to grab the reins of the horse. Halt, without one word or signal to the boy, walked right up to the steps and straight to the throne room where the King would be at this time in the late afternoon. He was right, and without waiting to be announced he walked into the room, the doors banging loudly as they were thrown open.

"Halt?" the King and the princess were sitting at a small table in the centre of the room, it seemed that they were in deep conversation but they now looked at Halt, their eyes wide and expectant.

Halt could only manage one word as he tried to get back his breath.

"Will." The King and Cassandra both glanced at each other uncertainty.

"What about Will?" the Princess dared to ask.

"He's….hurt –"

"Well then bring him in! We'll look after him…." King Duncan slowly stopped as he saw the look on his friends face. "He's not here is he?"

Halt shook his head, tears blurring his vision again. "They attacked us after we left….they…." his voice broke and he took a deep breath and tried again, "they were….after him."

**did you like it? yes? no? well tell me! it makes my fingers go faster! and i need that cos they're freezing it so cold!**

**xox Kitty**


	2. The Reldie

**heya people! I'm back! yay! *happy dance***

**anyway i'm not saying anything else other than; REVIEW! *puppy dog eyes* please!**

All he could see was black. Nothing else mattered to him in this world of darkness, nothing other than the pain. It was the only thing that was keeping him from peace. He wanted to leave his aches and suffering behind and be swallowed up by the never ending darkness.

A new stab of pain, and a white light appeared in the blackness in front of him. He tried to turn away, but his limbs wouldn't obey him. In despair he watched as the light grew bigger until all the blackness was covered in this white light.

Then slowly he opened his eyes.

* * *

Surveying the tracks before him, Halt suspected that they were at least a full day behind them. He sighed, just when Will was back and things started to seem normal he was taken away from him again. That boy must have a magnet that attracted trouble where ever he went.

Standing up, he walked back to where seven of the King's guard were waiting.

"They're about a full day's ride ahead of us, so if we want to catch them before they reach a port, we might have to ride through some of the night as well, but only of there's enough moon light, otherwise we'll camp and wake early in the mornings."

None of the riders seemed overly joyful at this announcement, but they all nodded there ascent and knew not to grumble. Halt grunted and then, after climbing into Abelard, led the small company forwards, following the tracks left by the bandits.

A few hours after Halt had charged into the king's throne room and told them the bad news; the king ordered seven of his best guard to be ready to leave on a long travel as fast as they could. The whole time Halt spent waiting was with him walking up and down the yard in front of the stables. Servants and locals working or doing business matters watched him with sympathy, knowing that he had only been reunited with young Ranger Will a few weeks before and new that having him been taken away again in such a short amount of time was hard for anyone, even the Halt who was always kept most of his feelings to himself.

The whole time Halt spent pacing, he was thinking about the attack, and the one thing that stuck out the most was that both horses, Abelard and Tug, didn't send them any warnings that there were bandits hiding in the trees.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he woke was a small face with large brown eyes leaning over him. She seemed as startled as he was to have his eyes open and to be conscious, as she backed away from him and huddled in a corner. He blinked a few time to get his eyes better accustomed to being used again. In that instant he remembered what happened and his hand went to cover the arrow wound in his side. He frowned as he found his limb wouldn't obey him. He looked around were he was laying, pots and pan were swaying from strings from the roof, bags of rice and dried meat were covering most of the floor, as well as what looked like camping equipment. He soon figured he was in a carriage or enclosed wagon of some sort from the rocking and bouncing the wooden structure was doing.

Still looking around, his eyes soon came to rest on the young girl who was still huddled in the far corner. He searched the girl's face for any inkling of who she might be, she looked no over then seven years old and was definitely unnaturally skinny, probably from under eating, and her skin was a light brown, like the colour of honey. Her eyes watched him with new found interest as he studied her. Slowly, she crawled over to where he was laying and sat with her legs crossed. She reached over to his side were he knew the arrow was, and gave him a questioning look.

"You can help me?" he asked her, his voice was quiet and he was surprised at how weak he sounded. The girl just gave him a blank look and blinked a few times, tucking her black hair behind her ear. He frowned again, and then asked her;

"Do you speak?" again he was answered with the same blank look as before. He went on speaking as slowly as he could, "do…you…speak…Araluen?" on hearing the word Araluen her eyes flashed with memory and she spoke, her voice as soft as his.

"No Araluen." Realising that she meant she couldn't speak his language he stared at her incredulously, but she ignored him and gestured to his arrow wound again. He nodded to her and she carefully pulled back his shirt, taking her time as it was stuck to his skin from dry blood. Will grimaced every time the shirt pulled at the skin or when she touched an area near his injury. She smiled apologetic to him and quickly crawled over to the corner she was sitting in and came back carrying a supply of water and other jars that Will could not identify. Dipping a cloth in water, she wiped away all the excess blood and to clean around the edges of the arrow wound.

He watched her for the next half hour or so as she covered his injury with this smelly substance, taking care not to cause him any more pain than from what he was already in.

He closed his eyes as she started bandaging his wound and wondered how a girl so young could know how to heal injury's, he wanted to ask her, but he knew he would only get he same answer as the other questions he had asked; a blank face.

His mind started to drift and he thought of Halt and Tug, Evanlyn when they were burning the bridge and Horace, when he and Will were practicing, with Gilan watching on. He smiled to himself savouring the moment, and knowing in his mind that he might never see them again.

* * *

As soon as the sun rose the next morning, Halt and his team of the King's guard were already on there way following the tracks they new were the bandits that had taken Will. Most of the men were yawning in there saddles, still getting used to being up and awake, while Halt was studying the ground carefully as they rode on, making sure they were following the right path.

It was at noon when they heard a set of hoof beats coming up from behind them. The party turned, some of the guards placing there hand on their sword handles just in case it was the type of person who liked to cause trouble. But as the rider turned a corner and he came into view, the man let there hands drop away from their weapons and watched the rider with curiosity and not suspicion.

"Halt!" by the sound of the riders' voice you could tell he was young, and at the sound of his name Halt let out a small sigh.

Horace pulled his horse, Kicker up beside Abelard and grinned at Halt, who didn't look as happy to see him. Horace grin widened.

"You didn't think you could go off gallivanting around looking for Will without me did you Halt?"

Halt wisely kept any comebacks to himself and then told the party to move on, telling Horace he was to ride up front next to him. He was quite relieved to have a young person like Horace along, one which he was more acquainted with, although he would never admit it.

* * *

It was a few hours after the boy fell asleep when they came to get her. Throwing open the back doors to the carriage loudly, as one of them leaded in and dragged her out. She whimpered in protest as he held her arm tightly, but she clamped her mouth shut when he placed a small dagger in front of her face.

He leaned in close to her.

"I want you to find someone for me, anyone, I don't care who you get and I don't care how you get them here. Think of a story to tell them and bring them here." he smiled liking the sound of his own language flowing from his mouth. The group was ordered not to talk in their own language while they were in this stupid country, but there was an exception for the girl, for it was the only language she spoke.

The girl didn't react to his command and only stared down at her feet. She had to resist the urge to wrinkle her nose, as his breath smelt of the weed he had been smoking. He shook her roughly.

"Answer me!" she quickly nodded her head.

"Make sure you come back though, girlie," it was another man speaking and she lifted her head a tiny bit to see his face, then she wished she hadn't. his expression was almost mad like, his eyes wide and excited and his dagger twisting in his hands, "because I'll be the one to permanently punish you if you don't bring us someone, and if you run away well find you and kill you."

The man holding her then shoved her forward in the direction of the woods.

"And be quick about it!" he shouted after her.

She thought of running back the way they had come, if this boy was someone of importance then there would certainly be someone following them. But then she remembered the pain the older boy was going through and how he had looked so lost lying on the hard floor, and she rejected the idea, she could handle the treatment from the _Reldie _for a few more weeks. The boy could help her, and in return, she could help him.

She stopped running when she emerged from the line of trees into an open field; there she saw a farm boy, a little younger then the boy in the carriage. She started running again, this time toward him. As he looked up she started crying, forcing tear down her cheeks. She hoped her acting and sign movements would be enough to think that something had drastic had happened and make him follow her.

* * *

Will woke to find himself alone. The carriage was no longer bumping along and he could hear the muffled voices of the men's conversations outside. He wondered why they had stopped, light was coming through some of the cracks in the roof and he saw no reason why they had decided to stop. Not really caring, he shrugged his shoulders, and instantly regretted it. Not only was his side sore, but his muscles were stiff and tight, he wouldn't be able to move around to get the feeling back either, without opening his wound again. He sighed, he wasn't sleepy anymore and he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, as every movement he made sent jolts of pain up his side.

He wished the girl was here, even though she couldn't speak his language he would have liked the company. Never before had he felt so alone, not when he was with Evanlyn on the Mountains, when Gilan left him in charge in Celtica, or even when he was an orphan at Castle Redmont and didn't have any family.

He was by himself, a gaping hole in his side, with no Tug, no Horace or Evanlyn, and especially no Halt. He had no idea where he was, he didn't have any weapons, and even if he did he wouldn't be able to use them. And the only person who he could probably trust was a girl no older than seven who was also a captive of these…men.

He was alone and helpless. And these emotions alone, made him feel as insignificant and small as anyone possibly could.

He hated all of them! He hated, especially the man who held a knife to his throat and when Will could get his hands on him, he was going to wish he had never met him.

* * *

There was something new Halt had found about the Bandits; they were cold blooded killers who care nothing about taking another's life. It was coming on late afternoon and Halt was looking for somewhere they could settle for the night, when a horrid smell filled the air. It was sickly sweet and Halt knew what it was after a few sniffs in the air, some of the other knights did also, but others didn't recognise the stench until they caught sight of the body.

It seemed that the Bandits knew that Halt wouldn't just give up and let them take his apprentice but would follow them and tried to put Halt off by using the only tool they had; Killing innocent's. There, hanging in between two trees was a boy no older than fifteen. Frozen on his face was a look of pure fear, his eyes staring straight ahead, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Horace turned his head away, closing his eyes to try and block out the scene that was before him.

Holding his breath one of the Kings Guard urged his horse over to where a piece of paper was stuck one of the tow trees. He pulled it off and quickly rejoined the group. He passed the note over to Halt, who frowned as he tried to read the writing. Horace moved his horse closer and read over the Rangers shoulder. Who ever wrote it wasn't familiar with the Araluen language.

_Folo us for any longa Ranger, and your boy wil get the same treet ment we gave this young Araluen. If you want to see your apprentic alive agan you will tern around and neva com bak._

Halt sighed and closed his eyes. He knew they couldn't be serious about killing Will; they came all the way here just to get him. They were only trying to scare him away. He nudged Abelard with his foot and the horse obediently trotted forward following the trail that the Bandits took.

They were going to need to do more then that to make him scared. He just felt for the family who will notice there son's missing, and then will find him hanging from his neck between two trees.

**REVIEWS make me type faster! (although it doesn't seem that way, i know i took a bit long on this one but i'll try not to in the future)**


	3. Thornton

**Heya people! I'm back, sorry for the long wait! quickly I want to thank the people who helped me with this chapter! Nelarun my Beta you're amazing! aswell as Tiana, who sat next to me for a whole AIT lesson reading over my shoulder, taking over the mouse making corrections. And of course, Ndoki (vida loca) who sent me multiple text messages and PM's repeating the word 'prod'. You're both awesome.**

**But a BIG thank you to Tashilover and Darkjobo, who gave me criticism and helped me fix some big holes that were in the story. This led to the work of a new character! yey! and I have to say that he's my fave so far. =p.**

**Anyway enough talk! read!**

* * *

Will awoke with light streaming onto his face. Only just managing to lift a hand and place it over his eyes, he squinted around to find were the light was coming from. He was surprised to find the door wide open. He frowned, feeling groggy and weak. It was like torture; to escape right now would have been so easy. He could imagine himself standing up, jumping out of the carriage and pelting down the dirt road as fast as he could. The guards would start screaming and shouting, running around like headless chooks, trying to find there weapons in the muddle of animals and humans. And then the young girl would be beside him, and he would take her hand and lead her away to where Halt was definitely following them.

The sudden lack of light jolted his mind awake, and he blinked to focus on his surroundings. The girl was huddled up in her corner again, and he could hear gentle sobbing. He fumed. Whatever they did to her he would pay them back for it. When he could.

That was the torture; waiting and watching, and not being able to do anything about it.

* * *

Sitting on top of his horse, Detlan watched his men with dissatisfaction. They were stupid, blubbery animals, with no love for anything other than themselves and the pain of others. He watches two of them fighting over a piece of bread that - even from where he was sitting - had green spots of mould growing off it. Feeling disgusted he spat out the last of his chewing curd. He wished the Zar hadn't sent him on this expedition. He was a warrior not a petty animal owner. Grunting, he turned his horse away and stared out at the road in front of them. The sun was just peaking over the horizon, the rays of its light reaching out toward the earth.

Someone cleared his throat from behind him. Knowing who it was, Detlan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Clearing his face from all emotion, he turned, making sure the man had to move out of the way of his horse.

"General," The man in front of him bowed low, and Detlan could bet any money that he had a small mocking smile dancing on his lips. He was wearing his normal dark clothes, a long cloak reaching almost down to the ground, with a hood, that was pulled back deliberately so the General could see his face. Standing upright the man showed no recognition that he had indeed been mocking the General. Detlan knew it to be a cover, this man would do everything in his power to show that he thought himself superior to him.

"What is it?" Detlan demanded, already getting unsettle in the man's presence.

"They're still following, My Lord; it seems Ranger Halt does not want to give up, whatever the cost." Detlan only grunted, not wanting to give the other man the satisfaction of annoyance showing in his voice. The number of civilians killed was now up to three and as Halt wouldn't give up Detlan had to decide whether he wanted to make it four. Not giving it too much thought, the better result would be to move his men faster to get to the closest Merchant's port.

He didn't bother dismissing the man, but instead turned his horse in the direction of the camp. He could feel the man fuming behind him, but that would teach him to mock Detlan, even though it wasn't open, it was certainly intentional.

Shaking his head, he started to order his men into breaking camp. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the man slip back into the trees, an angry aura about his movements. He scoffed, placing another piece of curd in his mouth.

_Mages._

_

* * *

_

I swear when I'm no longer in his command I'm gonna kill him!

Mage Thornton stomped his way through the forest, slapping branches and kicking bushes when they came onto his path. The group of knights were travelling on the road next to him, keeping up a good pace. A green sheen of magic surrounded him, concealing him and his sound from the knights so they couldn't see or hear him. Which was lucky considering all his muttering and stamping would wake even the deepest of sleepers.

Normally, Mage Thornton was a calm and controlled person, which is hard to imagine in view of his current state. It took a lot to get him angry, but when he was it was best to be at least a hundred meters away, where you were less likely to be hit by a flying fire ball. Being close to a mage in an angry fit, was not really the best thing to do.

Storming through the forest, Thornton was almost oblivious to his surroundings. Even though nothing could see or hear him, it wasn't very smart taking into account that he is walking through a large group of trees. One would be in the position to walk straight into one if they were not watching where they were going. Which is just what happened to Thornton, who, understandably, wasn't too happy about that either.

Unfortunately the poor tree took a beating for it, and was left horribly scared as Thornton stalked away again. Another thing about him was that he wasn't all too considerate about anything other than himself. Never had he lifted a finger to help someone or something in need, and he never had felt worried or guilty about it. It was just the type of person he was.

Casting a glance over to the road, Thornton stopped suddenly. The road was clear of all people. He had been so caught up in his thoughts of how Detlan would die a horrible death he hadn't been paying attention to the knights and the stupid Ranger. Mentally kicking himself he started running. Which to this was not the smartest of ideas, since he'd already slammed into a tree while walking; he would certainly have a large chance of doing it again. Not surprisingly he did. His temper was definitely near its limit now. He didn't seem to be having a very good day.

The group had travelled further than he had anticipated. He found them, stopped for their midday meal, a little further down the road from where Detlan had stopped for the night. The carriages should almost be down by the port, but by the rate that ranger Halt was setting they had a good chance of catching up before Detlan and his stupid men got there. He had to think of something to slow then down, something that would be natural, so as not to hint to them that he was there. He would be able to evade them if they did find out, but he didn't want to waste the effort of avoiding them. An evil smile came onto his face as he thought of an idea.

_Ohhhh this is going to be fun!_

It was also one of Thornton's natural traits to relish in the discomfort and distress of others.

* * *

Detlan watched with impatience as the carriages slowly rolled along.

"Can't you get them, to go any faster?" he shouted, gesturing to the mules. A few of the men grunted unrecognisable responses, but most kept their heads down and ignored him. Spitting the remains of his chewing curd at one of the mules, he kicked his horse angrily and made his way to the front of the line. From the rate they were going the Araluen's were going to be overtaking them very soon.

Detlan looked toward the sky. He still had at least four hours until the ship would leave. He had organised for the boat to be ready for when they got back, but he couldn't convince the captain to wait later than sunset.

Grumbling to himself again, he reached into his bag for the curd.

It was empty.

This made him even angrier, and he suddenly wished for Thornton to be standing in front of him so he could yell abuse. Instead he had to make do with yelling at his men to 'get their butts moving faster!'

* * *

Halt had watched the sun sinking lower in the sky all day. Now there was only a small gap before it touched the horizon. If he didn't get to Will before the sun was down, He would have lost him. This time he had to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

Sneaking a quick look at Horace, Halt thanked any god within listening distance that he had the stupid and irrational thought to let him come that day. Without Horace, Halt would have felt lost. It seemed he had become too attached to having young people around him. Which didn't always have its advantages; they always made him seem so old.

Deciding that they convoy had better get a move on, Halt shouted for the men to kick their horses into a slow canter. He then focused his attention on what was around him. He had always wondered how he and Will had been able to be crept up on so easily. Tug and Abelard should have warned them, but they had both been surprised, just as much as Will and Halt had. Shaking his head, to clear his thoughts, he scanned the trees as the party rounded a corner.

Taken by surprise Halt quickly shouted for the men to bring to a standstill. There was the jangling of reins the sound of hooves on gravel, as the men pulled their horses up behind Halt.

Horace came to stand beside him. He squinted at the reason for Halts sudden stop.

There, running towards them, was a young woman, crying.

* * *

It was the first time in two days in which Will could move his body. He could lift his arms, legs and head. The young girl had stopped him from trying to sit up. Wagging a finger at him she kept repeating the word; 'djo'.

He suspected it meant 'no'.

So there he lay, in the same spot where he found himself not two days ago. He sighed. It was getting really frustrating. Especially when he could hear and feel the wagon moving underneath him, the clop of the mules' hooves and the muffled sound of men talking. It meant that he was getting further and further away from Halt and the others.

For at least the fiftieth time he reviewed all the possible positions they could be in. since they had been travelling almost non stop for two days he suspected they weren't too far from water. And from the simple drawings the young girl had rubbed into the dust, they had been through a large forest. The fens were the most likely place in which these men were heading. They wouldn't be far off the waters edge now either.

* * *

Horace was the first to get off his horse. A few of the others followed, though they were wary about approaching the woman. Horace on the other hand walked right up to her, although he was careful not to do anything that might offend the woman so he kept his hands by his side. Gently nudging Abelard forward, Halt watched the woman closely. She was dirty, that part was obvious. Her hair had fallen out of the pins she had placed to keep her hair in a bun, and her feet were scuffed. It was lucky that her shoes were still in tact. Horace whispered some soothing words, and the woman quickly started to poor out, literally, her heart and soul to the young man.

"My poor boy. My poor, poor boy. Hung from a tree, you know? I just received my husband's letter. Murdered he said! But I don't want to believe him. Who would want my boy dead? Oh, I bet it's one of my neighbours! Frightfully jealous those people are! Was always wishing they could have a son like mine. But you must help me! What if my little girls next? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if both my children were killed!" with that she burst into more tears. Halt had a feeling that he wasn't the only one wondering how many a woman could shed in so little time.

Letting out his breath slowly Halt let his gaze wonder. Horace would deal with the woman quickly, and then he could get on racing to save Will. Again!

A frightened yelp was what drew Halt's attention back to the crying mother. Except; she wasn't there. Horace was rubbing his hand, looking a little more than shaken, and the men were whispering prayers to whom ever behind him. Angry that he had adverted his gaze, Halt snapped;

* * *

"What happened?"

_Stupid, stupid boy! Why the little-_

The rest of Thornton's words were too impolite to be repeated, and so it would be fine to say that he rambled on with a series of very creative swear words, which would have made his mother hit him ten times with her famous wooden spoon for such bad language. Right now Thornton didn't care. The 'stupid boy' had spoiled his plan. Not only was the thought of being caught out silly enough to make the mages blood boil even more; not having another back up plan made him seem all the sillier.

_If only he hadn't touched her!_

He reasoned this to himself. He never liked to think everything was his fault. Although it is bad for one to reason with oneself, for all you're trying to do is lie...

To yourself.

Which I am quite glad to tell you doesn't really work that well. Thornton, however, had reasoned with himself so many times that he didn't really consider it lying, but considered it as revealing who was really behind his failure**. **Because a wonderful, brilliant person such as himselfcould never make a mistake such as that.

This is a very good explanation of why people did not like this man, other than that he was deceitful, dishonest and a down right air head. Naturally these qualities had never popped into Thornton's head for why almost all his previous partners had quit, been accidentally killed, or strangely disappeared where they knew Thornton would never find them.

Fortunately for the rest of us, he doesn't and will never figure it out. Otherwise we will be having another one of his temper tantrums. Two is enough for one day.

It should have occurred to Thornton that someone actually might want to touch the maiden on the shoulder. But it had never gone through the mages thoughts that when someone is extremely upset, like the woman that he made appear, they would be inclined to reach out and comfort them.

It is really obvious that Thornton had never see, or had this type of action happen to him. I really wonder why, such a man like that.

* * *

It was when the wagon stopped that Will started to worry. It couldn't possibly have been a whole day yet, but he silently prayed to any god that might have been listening that it was. Unfortunately luck or prayer was not on his side. The wagon doors were thrown open, and two big burly men lifted Will from the floor. As gently as a big man could they lowered him out the doors, where, to Wills dismay, two sailors waited to carry him. Salty air blew into his face, and Will looked out at the ocean, a sinking feeling in his heart. As they moved toward the boats, Will half walking but leaning most of his weight against the sailors, looked back to the way they had come.

The road was devoid of people, and horses. It took him a long time to turn back around. He didn't want to look at the ship that would lead him away from Halt, Tug, Evanlyn, Horace and Alyss yet again.

* * *

Detlan watched the boys face as he was half carried up the plank. Not only was there the emotion from pain showing on his face, but also the let down of not seeing his mentor come to the rescue. Pretending not to notice, he turned away and started yelling at his men to, quote; 'move their butts faster'. When one of his men dropped one of the large crates, Detlan had to hold his breath to keep himself from yelling more, until he saw Thornton slide out from behind the big man. It was clear from the sheepish look on the mages face that he'd bumped into the other man. Walking away he was too proud to apologise.

Detlan frowned at this and gruffly asked what the stupid man was doing there, although he was smart enough to not say them in those words. He knew from experience what it was like when something displeased Thornton terribly. And from the way he looked he'd had a hard day.

Detlan almost smiled at this.

"They're coming."

Now he didn't feel like smiling.

"I thought I told you you're job was to stop them?"

"You did but –"

"Then why are they still coming?" Thornton was lucky Detlan, after years of experience, had learned to control his anger.

"I…well – you see –"

"Never mind you big oaf, you just use your magic to get all the baggage onto the boat and then you can have your punishment."

On this occasion Thornton was smart enough not to argue.

* * *

After the fallen tree only four of them were able to get across. The others had been left behind because of pack horses, or because their own horses had been frightened by the forest nearly falling on them. The only thing that Halt was really worried about though was that they wouldn't reach Will in time. If they had sent someone to hold them back, it would be right to think that they needed to by time so they could sail away. Halt was going to make sure that it wouldn't happen again.

* * *

Refusing to be carried down into the cabin, the sailors decided to leave the boy alone. Will stared helplessly out at the ocean before him, and watched the water slowly moving past. Holding back tears he took another look back towards the small port. He squinted. Was it –? Yes! Four horses, standing on the dock, watching the boat leave. Even at this far a distance, Will could make out the features of Abelard and Halt, and Horace! Even little Tug was there, standing riderless. Seeing this, his happiness started to disintegrate. He was on a boat sailing away to a place he didn't know. And there, at least five hundred meters away was Halt, watching him leave.

Again.

This time he let the tears flow.

**The fourth chapter shouldn't be too far behind so stick with me! and reveiw! I like to know what I've done wrong and what I've done right!**


	4. Sailing

**I'm back! Miss me? Of course you did! It's been a long time but hopefully you guys will forgive me and read it...or, you know review...if you want. Actually no, you have to review!...if it helps it will make me feel better.**

**If you are confused about some of the sailing terms there's a key at the end!**

**

* * *

**

Thornton had never had good experiences with boats. His first had been a fishing trip in an eleven foot dingy. He and his father had been caught up in an oncoming storm, ending up almost ninety kilometres down the coast. His mother, after three days of no return, had already arranged funerals for them. He still remembered her face when they rocked up on her door step about a week later.

His second and third experiences consisted mostly of water, the continuous feeling of queasiness and an empty stomach. By the end of both those trips he had figured that if he stopped eating, he wouldn't end up throwing his stomach's contents over board all the time, and would return home ten kilograms lighter. Unfortunately he still hadn't figured out a spell that could stop sea sickness, and anyone who did know wasn't going to tell him. It was a once in a life time chance to see the mage out of his comfort zone, and none of them were going to give that up for anything. The look on his face as he lent over the side rails was enough for any sailor or man who knew him to enjoy in his pain and suffering.

So as you can see; Thornton wasn't too happy about the long 2 month journey to land. After only two days at sea he had already started feeding his stomach contents to the fish, leaning over the rail on the starboard side.

The taunting of the crew and most of all; the General, was almost too much to bear, although they had decided to quit it after a few close encounters with a fire ball. This did, however result in setting a small part of the ship on fire, much to the unhappiness of the ship's captain.

Not only that, but he had also received a broken finger and multiple large bruises from falling twenty feet while 'having a go' at climbing the mast. Luckily his reflexes had saved him from the worst of the damage, although he had still bounced off the magical barrier that was suppose to catch him and landed on the deck anyway.

* * *

Halt glared daggers at the man standing in front of him. It was the third refusal he'd had today. The man shifted under his gaze, but still didn't change his decision. The only reason Halt didn't punch him out of anger, was because of Horace who ended up dragging him away from the markets surrounding the port. Knowing that he had thought only a few weeks earlier that he was thankful for bringing the boy along, Halt had changed his mind over that past few days. Horace, lovely boy as he was, still didn't think punching "innocent people who are just doing their job," very honourable. The fact as it was; Halt didn't really give a damn about who the person was; he just wanted to throttle someone.

Sighing heavily he sunk to the ground leaning against the tree trunk behind him. For the past few weeks merchants and sailors alike had been rejecting him without a second thought. It seemed that travelling South East was not the safest thing to be doing at this time of year. No one wanted to travel past Gallica, and the best offer he had received so far was to be dropped off at a small port at the North West top of Iberion.

Muttering under his breath, Halt made sure that Horace couldn't hear the foul words that he was using. He heaved himself to his feet and called Horace over. He was going to find every single merchant and sailor along every single port until he found one that would take him south.

"Halt?"

"Mmmmm?" he didn't really feel like talking at the moment, but Horace being Horace didn't notice the slight annoyance in his voice continued on.

"Why didn't we take up the offer to go to Iberion?" Halt looked at the boy, his brows pulled into a frown of thought. Sighing Halt stretched his arms and legs. Horace turned to face him.

"Where Will is travelling is on the other side of the Constant sea." Horace stared at him as if he was expecting Halt to elaborate. When he didn't and started to make his way back to Abelard, Horace followed.

"Well, why not take that ship to Iberion and then find another way across the Content Sea."

"Constant Sea, Horace. And that way would take too long."

"No offence Halt, but it's going to take us a long time anyway to find someone to take us there, if ever!'

Halt didn't answer, and kept his back to Horace so the boy couldn't see the concerned frown forming on his forehead. He tried to think clearly as he tightened Abelard's saddle.

"Halt, you know I'm right." Horace was defiant; confident in his words, "It's the only way."

Grunting Halt retorted; "What if we get caught in a storm? The boat sinks? What if we find no boat to take us across the Constant Sea in the first place?" Halt turned to him, and Horace's face showed he was certain about his actions.

"I'm willing to do anything for Will Halt, even walk or swim; whatever it takes."

Halt sighed, "What time was that boat leaving?"

Without hesitation Horace answered; "In three days."

* * *

Not two hours after they had set sail Will had been taken from the deck and locked into one of the cabins below. Secretly he was grateful; he was getting tired of watching his home drift away from him again. It also had been physically exhausting for him to stay standing for that long. He lay down on the only bed in the room and stared at the ceiling.

It was only a few minutes after the other men had left him alone did the door open and a small unimposing man walked in. He wore all black, which looked very strange taking into account that he had a large mop of blond curly hair on his head. The man stood at the doorway, seeming unhappy with his predicament.

"Lift your shirt," he ordered. Will didn't move, which caused the newcomer to grunt angrily. It was obvious that he didn't like it when someone didn't follow his orders. Moving gruffly he walked toward the bed and pushed Will's shirt up himself. He gave the boy a stern look when he tried to stop him.

"Do you want this wound healed or not?" Will looked him up and down again, and a small frown appeared on his forehead.

"You don't look like the healer type," he answered. The other man laughed.

"That's because I'm not you imbecile. Now hold still." Hovering his hand over the wound, he muttered a series of incoherent words. Will yelped in surprise as a strange feeling overcame his midsection.

"Hold still." The man ordered again. A few moments later he lifted his hand and pulled Will's shirt back down. "Keep the bandage on, it'll help it finish the last part of healing."

"Wh..." sitting up Will looked down at his bandaged chest.

"Oh," the man stopped at the door just as he was leaving, "the General told me to tell you that you're not allowed to leave this room, understand?"

Carefully Will nodded; he was still staring down in fascination at his bandaged body. The other man grunted again, and shut the door loudly behind him. At this Will looked up and a question crossed his mind; what the hell had just happened?

After leaving the boy's cabin Thornton walked straight to the end of the hall way and knocked on the door and the very end. He was answered a few moments later and told to come in. Breathing in deeply to calm himself, Thornton opened the door and entered. The General was sitting behind a large wooden desk that took up most of the room within the cabin.

Not looking up the General asked, "You didn't heal him fully did you mage?"

Affronted, Thornton answered quietly, "No, he still has the last few days of healing to go through."

Still looking down at his papers the General scribbled something on one of them. "So I wouldn't be hearing any reports tomorrow about how our prisoner escaped, will I?" He looked up now; so as to not lose the opportunity to see the other man's face, and tried to hide his amusement. Thornton still picked up on it and gritted his teeth.

"No, you won't."

The General smiled, then looked back at the papers before him, "You may go." He said dismissively, sounding somewhat bored. The mage couldn't get out of there quick enough.

* * *

Detlan sat in front of his desk, papers strewn all over the wooden surface. He lent back in his chair, taking the cup of wine from its resting spot on the small table beside him and took a sip, the wine tasting bitter in his mouth. He still drank it, knowing that it tasted so much better than the water that had the tangy flavour of wood. It would also make him forget, if only for a time, the problems he had brewing and growing larger on his shoulders.

The General, as anyone may find it surprising had his own long list of troubles that he had to worry about. A serious matter on the list was about the young new member of the convoy. Detlan worried over and over about what was to come for the boy when they reached their destination. Darouset was not a pleasant place when certain people wanted certain information, and even as a General who had killed many men on and off the battle field, Detlan felt disturbed about bringing one to his doom in chains.

The first issue on the list involved something much bigger; whether the Commander will approve of his choice or not. His real orders had been to catch a Ranger, and he was sure that the commander would not consider how a mere apprentice could be called that. Detlan though, was found with a problem when the Rangers turned out to be much smarter then what they believed them to be. After the sight of seeing an apprentice Ranger, Detlan had made a difficult decision.

An apprentice should have the same amount of information that the rest of the Rangers had. An apprentice was not as experienced at getting out of situations such as being kidnapped. An apprentice would be much easier to catch and hold knowing that they wouldn't have any idea about what to do in a real situation. An apprentice with a master by his side though was a different matter. So Detlan had given Thornton a large part of the ambush saying that he was giving him a chance to prove his worth, when in fact he was really trying to make the situation a lot easier for himself and the rest of his team.

The mage had been the reason that the Ranger's never expected them, blocking out any sound and sight of Detlan's men as they traversed through the forest. It was Thornton who made the Ranger's horse trot timidly backwards away from the apprentice, and it was Thornton who made sure that the boy's life wasn't lost from loss of blood and that Detlan was able to hold the boy's weight up and keep a knife to his throat. The General despised how much he had to rely on the mage.

Although they weren't the only worries on the Generals list; the arriving storm was another one, supplies, the men's loyalty, Thornton and of course the situation with the boy's growing hate for him. Detlan had a lot of weight on his shoulders, which was why when a member of his party crashed opened his door, he was angry that he was interrupted with his late night drinking spree. Normally the General was a very controlled man, but tonight he had too many things to think about.

Just as he was about to shout at the stupid blighter who had nearly bashed down the door off its hinges, the person in question shouted before he could get a word out of his mouth.

"Sir! There's a huge storm coming our way! And it's not looking pretty."

Storms; it was something that was far from Detlan's mind as he had convince the Captain to sail off at the time he wanted him too and it wasn't until he was actually out on the ocean during one of the storms that the Captain had described when he realised that they were so much worse then what the captain could ever describe.

Two steps behind his man, they both ran out on to the deck, almost instantly getting drenched as they cleared the doorway and were outside. The rain was pelting down with fury and it was impossible to see with so much falling water. Dark figures were running around and shouts muffled by the wind were being yelled to a person next to them. It was going to be even worse considering the waves hadn't even started to get big yet.

Grabbing onto a man running past he yelled in his ear, "Give me a job!" which he then was given instructions to wait, pray and tie himself down to something.

Feeling infuriated that he was so blind and helpless because of the rain, Detlan ran his hands over the deck below him, waiting to feel the rough edges of rope touch his fingers.

* * *

Will stood on the deck of the ship, leaning back against the second mask that jutted out of the wood beneath his feet, one of his hands rested unconscientiously on his side. The boat was alive with activity as land could be seen on the horizon. After the storm the crew was glad to be heading toward still, flat land. The young ranger didn't seem all that interested. He watched with mild curiosity as the crew ran around him, tying things down, lowering sails and the likes. Will didn't feel obliged to help out or find himself spare rope to tie him to the mast with. He had overheard a conversation of the General's regarding him and the plan to get back to the country they were headed. He ran through the exchange again in his head.

"Not a very nice welcome party is prepared for that boy. In a way I almost feel sorry for him, he's not yet twenty years by the look of him."

Will pressed his concentrated on the sounds in the room when the General took a few moments to answer, pressing his ear harder against the crack in the door, "We need the information Corporal, and it is my job to make sure that he's able to give us information, and, so help me get him there in one piece; the Commander does not want the boy in any state of bad health, and it is my job to fulfil that order."

"Yes but, can't we try a more…" the other man paused as if searching for the right word, "_nicer _way of finding information before we go to the extreme?"

"Nice is not a word in our vocabulary, Corporal, and it _is_ what the Commander wants whether we like it or not, we have to carry out the orders."

Will remembered every moment. He knew that things were going to be hard for him but he never realised what they wanted. But now he sure as hell was going to found out what and soon.

* * *

Detlan stood at the stern, watching the captain in front of him steer the ship into the harbour. After 7 weeks and five days they had finally reached the port of Terisma, one of the largest merchant cities down the coast of Arrida. It had taken them longer to reach their destination then it should have. The storm had left the men exhausted, and the boat had taken a bad beating, with one of the compartments below flooding and the main mast had broken in half. The wind had finally been on their side after crossing the constant sea, coming from south easterly most of the way.

Detlan's men stood at the beam, staring out over the railings and watching the city become larger and larger. Many of them were glad to be stepping on to dry land again and others were thinking about the food and warm, soft beds. Detlan on the other hand was thinking about the boy; with no boat in the middle of the ocean to keep him contained there was no saying in what the kid might do to get away. There was no doubt in the General's mind that the boy was smart, and it was obvious to see that he would do anything to escape. He just had to figure out how he was going to give the boy a reason to reconsider his options and stay.

Thoughtfully Detlan watched as the young ranger lifted the slave girl up onto one of the rails so she could see. The boy was grinning at her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck so as not to fall into the water. Sometimes small, simple things could turn into advantages.

* * *

Edwin Aldrich wasn't a man that many found to be the most pleasant being in the world. In fact, Aldrich was a person who sought out to make people's lives miserable. At first it was for his business – a generous merchant didn't get anywhere in this world, and most of the time ended up broke – but after watching people suffer under his own hands, he found a certain liking for it.

Now as it happens Aldrich wasn't mentioned in this story for no reason, in fact he is the second cousin of our very own Mr. Thornton. Not that it was surprising or anything, but the point I am trying to make is that Thornton and Aldrich didn't get along very well, for the same reason that they both make it their life's work trying to make people other than themselves feel, well, like dirt under their feet. Anyone could realize that there was a big competition going on. For Detlan though; he thought it was a nice part time job to make it his business to get Thornton to feel as stupid and inferior as he possibly could.

Now Thornton had caught onto his plan, and as he was still getting over his sea sickness he wasn't in the best mood. For the whole morning and early afternoon they had spent in the town, stocking up previsions and trying to find the house of the rich merchant Aldrich – for Thornton had 'forgotten' where his cousin lived – he spent muttering under his breath and lighting a small flame onto his fingers whenever a person stepped too close to him. In one case a stall owner had tried to sell Detlan and his company peanuts and got a little too close to Thornton, who was very annoyed with that fact, and lit the man's coat on fire. Fortunately for him he had another family member helping him man the store and stamped it out for him. It was understandable that not many people ventured near Thornton again.

As I mentioned before, the mage didn't really give a thought about anyone else around him and thoroughly enjoyed watching the displeasure and discomfort he caused to others. Even though in that instance; he wasn't smiling.

As you could imagine by the time they ended up standing in front of Edwin's house Detlan was ready to turn around and strike his fist into the mage's face. He didn't of course, as he wouldn't have been a very good General if he lost his temper over a grown man's stupid baby tantrum. He wasn't alone of course, for it seemed that Bruce and Laird, two of Detlan's men who had been chosen to come along, were almost ready to bash Thornton over the head with their hammers if he didn't stop complaining.

Detlan gave Thornton a warning glare that seemed to say stuff-this-up-and-you-defiantly-won't-live-to-see-the-next-day, before ringing the bell. Thornton, thankfully, stayed quiet and instead focused his anger on glaring at the pot plant resting by the door. Laird watched the mage carefully; his eye's shifting between Thornton and the pot plant as if he was expecting either one of them to catch on fire.

The bell had to be rung four times before the door swung open and there, standing at the door, was Edwin Aldrich himself. By the look of him you would have thought that there was no connection between him and Thornton. This of course was one thing that Thornton was grateful for; he looked nothing like his cousin. Now most of you might be thinking that you don't really have any resemblance to many of your cousins, but if you had a cousin that looked like Aldrich you would count yourself lucky that you had a different mother and father.

Let me just say that with a man like Edwin Aldrich he didn't catch the eyes of woman with his looks, no, that was what the money was for. With his balding head, – Aldrich was only thirty-one – thin moustache and a rather round tummy, he wasn't really the type of person that you would congratulate on their looks. Even if I explained his looks to you in detail, you would still be surprised when you finally set eyes on him.

Detlan though, being very good with hiding his emotions, showed no signs of surprise at Aldrich's ugliness. In fact I don't even think the General had any thoughts what so ever about the other mans looks. That couldn't be said though for the rest of the party, who were, in other words, a little taken a back at the merchant's appearance.

Aldrich gave them a once over, his eye's pulling in together and a frown forming on his face. If wasn't very flattering, although no other expression could ever make Aldrich look flattering.

"Yes?" The voice matched the face; scratchy and deep Edwin was someone who you wouldn't want to listen to for very long.

Detlan inclined his head in greeting, "We want to talk business,"

Aldrich did another once over, "And why would I want to do business with you?" apparently he didn't like the look of the new people standing on his doorstep.

The General grinned; something that didn't really happen very often, and reached for the large purse being handed to him by Bruce.

"I will pay _handsomely_ for your trouble Sir Aldrich," Detlan shook the bag to show to good effect, the amount of money he had within the leather purse. Edwin's eyebrow's shot up at the sound. It was obvious that he didn't notice the Generals emphasis on the word 'handsomely' and didn't realize that the other man was in fact offending him. It seemed that Detlan could not resist the chance to poke fun at a man with no proper values; Aldrich was very much like Thornton personality wise, and it was now certain that Detlan did indeed notice the other mans appearance and couldn't let the opportunity go to insult Aldrich while he had the chance.

He hid a smug smile when Aldrich invited them in hurriedly; it wasn't until he saw Thornton did the smile faultier, only if in the slightest. The two men eyed each other wearily.

Aldrich spoke first and, if possible, his voice sounded worse than before; filled with malice and just a hint of scorn, "Hello cousin,"

Thornton was clearly displeased at this and only inclined the greeting with a nod of his head. When both of them joined Detlan, Bruce and Laird in the drawing room, they looked flustered and mostly irritated. Detlan smiled at them, trying to hide his amusement.

Thornton and Aldrich gave each other untrusting look as they took their seats, which were, to no surprise, on the opposite sides of the room. Unfortunately for them they didn't realise that they would be looking straight at each other. It wasn't until they sat down did they figure it out; neither of them were very happy about it but didn't want to be the first to move.

"Shall we begin Gentlemen?" Detlan said starting the meeting; either not noticing the discomfort of the two men, or he found it far too amusing and decided to ignore it.

Detlan stared pointedly at the two men on either side of him, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. Bruce was sitting on the other side of Detlan, seemingly comfortable in the soft and large couch. Laird showed clearly his discomfort of being so near to the mage when he was close to having one of his temper tantrums.

When no one answered him, Detlan cleared his throat loudly, not caring if it sounded rude. Aldrich almost jumped of his chair and onto the floor he was so startled by the noise. Looking flustered he nodded his head.

"Oh, yes…business, err you would probably want tea? Yes, tea is good…err…_Helen_!" he shouted the last word, his voice echoing in the large room. Aldrich smiled almost apologetic at Detlan, appearing a little embarrassed, as a small woman pushing a huge trolley padded softly through the doors.

Smiling as politely as he could Detlan took a tea cup and saucer from the woman and set it down on the table in front of him.

"So, err…what is it you wanted to talk with me about Mr.…"

"Just call me General, Mr. Aldrich." Edwin cleared his throat, gave Thornton a side long glance before turning back to Detlan.

"So, the business is…?"

* * *

It was a new experience for Halt; watching Horace eating a small morsel of nuts as if it were the last source of food on earth. It would have been a strange sight for anyone to watch; a big growing boy cradling a wooden bowl, his hands like a giant's in comparison.

Halt watched Horace again pick one specific nut, place it in his mouth and chew extremely slowly. This is in itself was an achievement for Horace, who's stomach always seemed to be empty and growling from hunger. In any other circumstance Halt would have been amused. But he wasn't. That reason could be simply explained by the object that was lain out before him.

A map

Of course normally maps aren't all that threatening, but looking at the large gap of water that laid between him and Will, Halt felt a strange sensation of nervousness in the bottom of his stomach.

What if they never found him? He suppressed a shudder at the thought. He'd already been through this experience, but for some reason this time it felt a hundred times worse. Was that because he should have learnt from his first mistake? It should never have happened again. Ranger's prided themselves on never repeating the same mistake twice. No, Halt new that wasn't the extent of his feelings. There was something about the men that made a shiver run up his spine. He knew there was something familiar about them, but he couldn't make out what. But he knew, he knew for certain, that whoever these men were they were not likely going to become best friends with their captive like the Skandians.

No, the gut feeling told Halt that these men were much more dangerous. This thought was enough to put is stomach off his bowl of nuts.

* * *

**Starboard (right)**

**Port (left)**

**Stern (rear part of the hull)**

**Beam (the widest part)**

**You know where the button is...**


End file.
